The Light of Apollo
by CarolinaBlue
Summary: While the people on Galactica try to find their place again after the events of Kobol and the military coup, a fringe religious group within the fleet causes trouble of a dangerous, deadly variety. Set in S2, after "Home Part2"
1. Chapter 1

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc.

I was in the middle of writing "How to Be Human" when this story worked its way into my brain and wouldn't work its way back out. I'll probably continue this after "Human" is done, but for right now here's the first chapter!

CHAPTER ONE

Life was finally settling for the people of the Colonial fleet. Adama was back as commander and Roslin was once again President. Day to day life was becoming routine, comfortable.

The _Niobe_ was a small civilian ship that had escaped the planet Libron during the attacks. It housed several hundred families and a small crew. Quarters were cramped and not the most luxurious, but the people were reasonably happy, considering the circumstances. There was a feeling of community here, and people were welcomed in with open arms.

And so no one thought to question the four men and two women who boarded the ship together one day. The group didn't talk much to anyone, but seemed harmless enough. They dressed similarly, in browns and greens, and all bore the same bow and arrow tattoo on their inner biceps. Other than that, nothing unusual. They kept to themselves but always pitched in when work needed to be done.

A week went by, when two of the men got up very early in the morning. They walked through the halls of the silent ship, past sleeping families and crew, to reach the galley. One man undid a vent casing in the wall, while the other pulled a small, metallic object out of the box he had been carrying. He handed the object off to his companion, who placed it in the vent, started its timer, then replaced the casing. The two men left the galley, and it looked like no one had been there at all. But then four hours later, at the peak hours of breakfast, the bomb exploded, rocking the entire ship and leaving the galley a smoldering, screaming mess…

It was very early in the morning, a time when anyone who wasn't on duty was most definitely asleep. Except for Lee Adama. He walked the mostly empty corridors of _Galactica_, glad for the peace and quiet. He'd been back as CAG for a few days and was only now feeling like he was catching up with the missed work. Whoever they had gotten to replace him during his time as a fugitive had frakked just about everything up. Fixing the entire mess had cost him a few nights of sleep, and even now there was always something that needed to be done.

Lee knew he should be resting, but he couldn't. Every time he made his way to his rack, someone stopped him to talk or complain or request something. Every time he tried to lie down, his brain would overload with things he needed to do, problems he had to fix. And every time he closed his eyes, images he wished he could forget would flash through his mind. He and Kara fighting on the flight deck, his own gun pressing against Tigh's face. His father getting shot, bleeding to death. His father lying unconscious in the sick bay. Kobol…

He couldn't sleep. He was exhausted but restless and, truth be told, afraid. Afraid he'd miss something, afraid something would go wrong. If he slacked off now, it would prove he didn't deserve to be CAG, that he really was a screw-up and a traitor. He had to be perfect now, he had to show everyone that he was needed, that they had been missing something while he was away. Otherwise, would they really need him now?

It was insecurity talking, Lee knew, but he couldn't help it. No one had really treated him badly since he had returned to the ship, but he was still worried. He had committed mutiny and gone AWOL. He had abandoned them, betrayed them. And it wasn't just them he had something to prove to, it was his father. Lee had to be good at this job, better than good. Or else his father might not have any need for him at all…

So Lee hadn't gotten a lot of sleep since they had returned from Kobol. That was fine, as long as pilot operations ran smoothly and CIC couldn't complain about him. That was all that mattered. He'd sacrifice some rack time, getting a quick nap in here and there, if it meant his job was getting done right.

And he wouldn't have to run into Kara in the pilots' quarters. He realized he had kind of been avoiding her since they got back, his father too. All of his relationships had changed since that mission, and Lee was unsure of where he stood with them. So instead of being let down, or letting them down, he tried to remove himself from their sights. So far it was working.

Of course, the gods were laughing at him. 'So far it was working' was barely a thought in his brain, when Commander William Adama himself appeared in front of Lee. He wasn't sure which one of them was more surprised.

"Captain," Bill acknowledged. Both of them wondered inwardly why he couldn't call his son by his actual name, even in an empty hallway.

"Sir," Lee replied, making an effort not to stammer. He still felt incredibly judged and inadequate around his father, even though he had no regrets about his actions over the past few weeks. Part of him wanted to apologize so badly for leaving, but he believed in his actions and couldn't let his father think he regretted them. Lee had done what he knew to be right, and he couldn't apologize for that. It was all giving him a headache.

Bill was going through the same sort of dilemma. He had assumed, rather naively, that things would go back to the way there were, or be better, after they all returned from Kobol. But trying to navigate their ways through their jobs on _Galactica_ had caused both men to retreat from each other. There was no animosity between them, not really, but it wasn't at all easy to be around each other. One step forward, two steps back.

"You're up early," he commented. "Or up late," he added, hoping to lose some of the tension.

"I'm still trying to work out some of the kinks in the flight roster, sir," Lee answered, not recognizing the joke attempt for what it was. "We're adding some new nuggets to the group, and with Helo back, I'm…" he trailed off for a second, running his hand through his hair. "I'm fixing it," he assured Bill.

Bill's first instinct was to nod and continue on down the hallway, but something in Lee's voice stopped him. He took a closer look at his son, noticing the circles under his eyes, the pale complexion, the heavy slump to his shoulders. "Are you alright? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asked. Not wanting Lee to think he was coddling him, he added, "We can't have our CAG getting sloppy on the job again."

He regretted it the moment he said it. Lee's eyes flashed briefly, very briefly, with something akin to resignation and hurt, before the mask slid back in place and he pulled himself as upright as possible. "It's fine, sir. Does the commander require anything else of me this morning?"

Bill kicked himself, knowing he had done it again, whatever 'it' was. But he just couldn't bring himself to apologize or clarify his question. Old habits die hard, he guessed. "No, Captain," he answered quietly, also resigned, unable to break away from his pretense of commanding officer. "I'll see you later at the CIC briefing."

"Yes sir," and Lee was quickly gone. Bill was alone in the corridor, but he could still feel the taste of hurt and disappointment that his son had left behind. He had thought Kobol was a step in the right direction between the two of them, but since getting back to the ship, neither seemed able to continue those steps.

They were stuck, dead in the water. One step forward, two steps back…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter 2

Helo prided himself on being a pretty level-headed guy, self-controlled

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc.

…Okay, so I lied. I kinda like writing this story and I think it wants me to write it. So I'm going to attempt to write 2 fics at the same time, which should be hard for someone as lazy as me… wish me luck!

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CHAPTER TWO

Helo prided himself on being a pretty level-headed guy, self-controlled. He looked on the bright side of things and always took everything with an even-tempered eye. But today he was a nervous wreck and, if he was completely honest with himself, scared out of his mind. He wouldn't show it, but today was his first day of pilot re-certification, and he was tense as all hell.

He walked through the halls quickly, trying to avoid as many people as possible. Many of _Galactica_'s crew regarded him with suspicion or scorn because of Sharon. Helo hated to admit it, but the judgments were starting to get to him. That was why he was getting to the squadron ready room so early. He didn't want to walk in and automatically feel every eye in the room go to him. Especially since the other people in the room would be the newest batch of nuggets going on a test run.

He stepped into what he thought would be an empty ready room, but was surprised to see the CAG already there, filling out flight rosters and reports. He paused in the doorway, taking a moment to observe the other man. For a second Helo was disappointed, he was hoping Starbuck would be in charge of the training today. Not that he didn't like Apollo, contrary to popular belief. They had actually done a rotation together on the battlestar _Triton _a few years ago and gotten along really well. Apollo had always been a pretty closed off guy- he had to have perfected that masked expression when he was six or something- but he was a good guy, a good sparring partner, and actually pretty funny once you got to know him. When he had shown up on _Galactica_ for the decommissioning ceremony, Helo had been kind of excited to hang out with him again.

But then, of course, the Cylons frakked everything up. And he had held a gun to Apollo's head, while Apollo had pointed one at Sharon. And granted, the fact that Helo's new girlfriend looked exactly like the thing that had nearly killed Apollo's father (right in front of Apollo, naturally) had aided in their tension since the Kobol… mission? Incident? Whatever it was, he and Apollo hadn't exactly bonded since then. But then, watching the newly re-instated CAG sigh heavily, rub a hand over his face, Helo had to wonder if Apollo was doing much of anything besides work these days.

"Hey Captain," he said lightly before stepping into the room so as not to startle the other man.

Sure enough, Apollo's mask slid back into place, and Helo could almost forget what he had just seen. "Lieutenant," Apollo nodded, looking down at the papers in his hands again. "You're here early," he commented.

Helo slid into a corner seat in the front. "Couldn't sleep, thought I'd wait around here till the briefing," he only semi-lied.

Apollo gave a dark chuckle. "Same here."

Helo looked at him again, but the mask hadn't changed. Then it hit him- he hadn't really seen Apollo in the pilots' quarters in a few days. "When have you been sleeping, Apollo?" he asked before he could stop himself.

The CAG shook his head. "When I can," was his non-answer. "Look, I want to run something by you before the nuggets get here." He suddenly looked a little hesitant. "During the briefing, I want you to call me by my call sign. Not Captain or sir or whatever. And I'll do the same to you."

It wasn't what Helo was expecting. "Okay. Why?" He almost smiled at Apollo's awkward demeanor. This was more the Lee he remembered.

Lee scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable. "I want the nuggets to have a good impression of you. Instead of you being treated like some Cylon defector, if they see us on easy terms, maybe…" he shrugged. "It'll make things easier for everyone."

Helo grinned, he couldn't help it. "Aw, Apollo, I'm touched."

Lee snorted. "Yeah, in the head." He waved some papers in the air. "I'm going to fly as your ECO today; we'll work around the Vipers. Now shut up and let me figure out these fuel runs."

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The test run with the nuggets went well. None of them dared to cross the CAG, so when he treated Helo fairly, so did they. A couple of well-cracked jokes and some fancy maneuvers in the Raptor, and they began to like him too. All that, plus finally getting Raptor re-certified, left Helo feeling pretty damn good at the end of the day. A few pilots were waiting on the deck when they landed, there to congratulate the newest class. Helo exited the Raptor somewhat cautiously, as he always did when confronted with a large group of people anymore.

"Alright rooks, the celebration starts now in the rec room. You're not there in five minutes, you're doing the 3am CAP for the next month!" Racetrack yelled.

"Welcome to hell!" Hot Dog smirked as the nuggets hurried out.

Just as they were exiting, one new guy- call sign Crow- turned back to the Raptor. "Helo, you coming?"

Helo paused for a second, looking to the other pilots uncertainly. Racetrack met his gaze steadily and then cocked her head to the side. "He better be," she answered for him. "Or his ass will be flying that CAP in a Raptor." Then she smiled a little, gesturing with her head for him to join them.

Helo covered his shock well, smiling himself and throwing up a half-mocking salute. "Yes sir," he said, jumping down to the deck. He forgot Lee was still there until the CAG clapped him on the back, passing him and heading out a different door.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant," he said just quiet enough for only Helo to hear him, smiling a little. He was honestly relieved that there was now one less thing he would have to worry about among his pilots.

"Apollo…" Lee turned back around at Helo's call. The larger man looked like he was going to say something serious, heartfelt, and Lee braced himself for the awkwardness. Instead, thankfully, Helo grinned. "You're not coming?"

Lee shook his head. "They've got it under control. I've got reports for the day to fill out."

"Come on man, you need the break." Helo was still smiling, but he was serious. Apollo was going to crack if he didn't rest sometime soon.

"I need the rack time," Lee replied, hoping that admitting that would be enough to throw Helo off. He was uncomfortable with other people's concern, especially when those other people were those he was supposed to be responsible for. "I'm going to finish these and get in my bunk before your drunken asses crash in the pilots' quarters."

"If you're sure…" Helo was already heading out to the rec room.

Lee opened his mouth but was interrupted by Gaeta's voice over the comm. "Captain Adama to CIC. Repeat, Captain Adama report to CIC immediately." Lee sighed, shoulders slumping heavily, before regaining his composure. He glanced around self-consciously, hoping no one in the deck crew had seen his reaction. If they did, they didn't show it. Thank the gods for small favors.

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"The mission aboard _Niobe_ was successful?"

"Yes Father."

"And the rest of the team has stayed behind to see if He will appear."

"Yes Father."

"Very good… very good."

"Father? What if He does not come to _Niobe_?"

"He will; He is the true Incarnate. But no matter, I've also sent some of our order to _Galactica_."

"_Galactica?_"

"He is the Aphetoros Incarnate. A battlestar is the only home he would have."

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When Lee entered the CIC, he immediately threw a salute in Adama's direction, not forgetting their interaction from that morning. Truth be told, he thought at some point in his life he'd be over the need for his father's approval, but this morning had proven otherwise. It had actually hurt that after everything they had been through in the last few weeks, the Commander still couldn't see him as anything other than an officer who was lucky to be doing his job. That the ship's need for somebody- anybody- to be CAG was greater than William Adama's need for a relationship with his son. It shouldn't surprise him after all these years, but it did. He shook the dark feelings off, joining his father, Tigh, and Gaeta at the center console.

Adama barely noticed the salute. "We've got a situation in the fleet, Captain. A civilian transport ship, the _Niobe_, was attacked this morning."

"Cylons?" Lee asked, surprised this was the first he was hearing about it.

"We're not sure," Gaeta answered. "There was an explosion in the galley, but there was minimal damage to the ship, and there's been no follow-up attack."

"Casualties?" Lee forced himself to ask.

"Thirty-two dead, a couple dozen injured." Bill's voice was grim. "I'm sending over a team to do a preliminary investigation, check for any more threats, begin relief efforts. I want you to head it, Captain. Starbuck and a squad are on their way to the flight deck." The way he said 'want' meant it really wasn't a wish, it was an order.

"Yes sir," Lee hoped his voice was much steadier than he felt. Gods he was tired, but it wasn't like he could request some time off right now. He saluted again, forcing his arm to go up straight and steady, and left before anyone could officially dismiss him. He wanted to leave before he had to hear his father say "Captain" again instead of "Lee." It was stupid, sure, and immature. But he couldn't help it. Stress and fatigue were playing with his mind and his ability to reason. 'Just get this mission done, then maybe you'll be able to sleep,' he told himself.

"Don't mind me saying sir, the CAG is looking a little worn down these days," Tigh murmured after Lee was gone.

"We all are," Adama's reply was short, biting. Gaeta looked up at the sharpness of the Commander's tone, but a look from Tigh sent him away. Bill was alone with his thoughts. Was Lee bitter with him for doing his job now? For gods' sakes, he was trying to treat Lee like any other CAG to show that he trusted him to get the job done. And anyway, it seemed like all Lee did anymore was CAG duties, so why did he begrudge his father for doing the same? 'Because all you've ever done is your duty,' a nasty voice in the back of his mind scolded him. But since that voice always sounded so much like his ex-wife, it was easy for Bill to ignore.

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Landing on _Niobe_, Lee quickly took charge. He sent Starbuck and the soldiers to the central holding bay to distribute food and supplies while he followed the ship's captain to the sight of the blast. They passed the medical station on the way, and it took everything in him not to throw up when the smell of burned flesh reached his nose. It must have shown on his face, because Captain Franks gave him a commiserating smile.

"I never get used to it," she said quietly. Lee nodded, put the nausea out of his mind, and followed her to the galley. Or what was left of it. _Niobe_'s deck crew was hard at work, repairing what they could, salvaging what they couldn't.

"It wasn't meant to destroy the ship," Lee commented to himself. Franks nodded. "Small, contained blast, barely even damaged the hallway outside." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Hardly the Cylons' style."

"One of the reasons we don't think it was Cylons, Captain Adama." Franks beckoned forward one of the crewmen who held a mangled, metallic contraption in his hands. He turned it over to Lee, who examined it closely.

"Homemade bomb," he said, again talking to himself. "Someone knew what they were doing with this- the timer, delayed fuse, controlled pressure release…"

"All stuff that could be found on this ship, sir," the crewmen added. Lee nodded absent mindedly, running his hands over some raised markings on the underside of the bomb.

"What the hell is this?" he said under his breath. He looked over to the crewman, noticing a pad of paper and pencil in one of his pockets. "May I borrow that?" he asked. When the man handed it over, Lee flattened a sheet of paper onto the casing and shaded over it with the pencil until an image began to appear: a sun, with half of its circle also forming an archer's bow.

"The frak is that?" one of the crew asked.

"I'm not sure. Yet." Lee held up the paper. "Captain Franks, do you mind if I-?"

She waved a hand. "Take it. See what you can do." She and Lee left the galley then, heading back to the hangar.

"So we're looking for humans. Real people did this to my ship," she stated grimly.

"It looks that way," Lee half-sighed. "Anyone on the ship seem suspicious in the last week or so?"

"No," she answered after taking a moment to think. "People come and go here on a regular basis, but everyone who stays does their share, pitches in. We're a community on board here. We…" she shook her head. "We have families here."

Lee ran a hand tiredly up his face and through his hair. "So either this symbol is a big old clue to what happened, or it was a random, crazy act- which sure as hell doesn't seem likely- or someone in that galley was a target," Lee slowed his pace then, knowing what his next step had to be and already hating it. "Captain Franks, can you take me to the sick bay?"

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TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. Chapter 3

Landing on Niobe, Lee quickly took charge

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc.

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CHAPTER THREE

A few hours of distributing supplies later, and Starbuck was ready to call it a day. She was tired and just a little bit (a lot) cranky. The only reason she had taken this assignment in the first place was so she could spend some time talking to Lee, and she hadn't even seen him since they landed on _Niobe_ hours earlier. The frakker had been avoiding her for days now, and she had had enough.

"It's bad enough he won't talk to us on _Galactica_, but on assignment…" she grumbled to an imaginary Bill Adama. She knew him and Lee hadn't been comfortable with each other since returning from Kobol. She stalked through the hallways of the civilian ship. The rest of the team was already heading to the Raptor, and Lee was late in meeting them.

After asking around and being directed to the sick bay, she made her way past dozens of makeshift hospital beds. The sight and sound of burn victims, not to mention the smell, threatened to overwhelm her initially until she shoved it out of her mind. Mind over matter.

"Hey, Doc," she grabbed the arm of the first official-looking person she could see. "I'm looking for a Captain Adama?"

The doctor nodded towards a bed in the far corner, where she could see Lee sitting with a patient. She started towards him when the doctor stopped her. "Lieutenant? I may be out of line here, but I'd get him out of here if I were you." At her questioning look, "The guy's obviously exhausted, and sitting with that kid isn't going to help."

"What are you talking about?" she looked over to Lee. The patient he was with was a boy, no more than eight years old, severely burned everywhere that Kara could see. She turned back to the doctor.

"The boy doesn't have much time left," he said quietly. "And your Captain, he's… he's been here for awhile. He's going to collapse soon if he's not careful."

Kara nodded her thanks and went quickly over to Lee, making enough noise to not startle him with her approach. "Hey, the team's ready to go," she spoke softly.

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the boy in front of him. The kid was obviously unconscious and fading fast.

She tried again. "Come on Lee, you need to get out of here," she laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it when he looked up at her. Gods, he did look ready to collapse. When had he last slept? "We're going to have to make our report to CIC soon."

He became Apollo then. "You got out all our rations and supplies?"

"Yeah. The team's waiting at the Raptor. Let's go," she gently pulled his arm until he stood up, and kept it there while he got his bearings.

"I promised him I'd stay until he fell asleep," and then he was Lee again, looking back to the boy.

Kara felt her stomach drop a little. "You talked to him?"

"I wanted to get some accounts from witnesses, maybe see if someone in the galley was a target…"

"So you interviewed the eight year old?" She tried to lighten her voice but was pretty sure it didn't work.

"He's seven," Lee corrected. "No one was sitting with him," he cleared his throat. "His parents died in the explosion."

"Lee," she said his name again. The doc was right; Lee needed to get the hell out of here. But his next words stopped her cold.

"His name is Zachary." Lee's usually vivid blue eyes were dull and somber. "Zak. His dad called him Zak." He couldn't look at her.

"Okay, that's it," she grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the bed and out of the sick bay. Once they were in an empty hallway, she grabbed his shoulders and lightly shoved him against the wall, half shaking and half supporting him.

"What-?" he was completely confused, and still not totally aware of what was going on.

"Lee. Look at me." Her voice was commanding and steady. Out of instinct, he went still and obeyed the order. His eyes were still disturbingly dull, and Kara couldn't remember the last time she had seen some real life in them. Probably when they were on Kobol, she guessed. "Lee. You need to get some sleep, okay?" She spoke slowly and firmly. "We're going to get back to _Galactica_, and you're going straight to your rack, got it?"

"I can't," he fumbled, pushing her hands away. "I have too much to do…"

"And you won't be able to do any of it if you're sick!" she got in front of him again, stopping him. "If any of your pilots were acting this way, what would you do?"

"Acting what way?" he challenged.

"Like you haven't slept in days and you're focusing on work instead of dealing with everything that's happened since we got back!" she felt like screaming at him, but this one time she held back, knew it wouldn't do any good.

He flinched as though she had struck him, but didn't deny anything for once. That alone proved Kara's point. She took a step back when he deflated a bit, running a hand over his eyes for a second. "I'm tired, Kara." His voice was lost, small. "But I can't… Everything's just- I… he's seven," he looked up at her, willing her to understand. She did, but it didn't mean she wasn't going to win this argument.

They heard footsteps approaching. Kara turned to see a group of civilians, all dressed in greens and browns, enter the hallway. When she looked back to Lee, his posture was straight and his face was masked again. She never could figure out how he always managed to do that.

"Okay, Starbuck. Back to the Raptor, back to _Galactica_, report to CIC, and then-"

"Shut up, Apollo. I'll report to CIC, you report to your bunk." She made sure he looked her in the eyes. "I mean it." He looked at her for a few seconds, no reaction. "Got it?"

Finally, mercifully, he nodded. "Got it." They turned as one to make their way down the corridor past the intrigued civilians, and she took a chance, throwing an arm casually around his waist. It was the next best thing to a hug, and the best she could do right now. The quick smile that lit up his face- and he unsuccessfully tried to hide- told her it was worth it.

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The smile lasted until right about the time they landed on _Galactica._ "Apollo!" Hot Dog called out not a second after Lee's feet hit the flight deck. Two pilots, obviously just off a CAP rotation, stood next to him.

"What is it, Costanza?" To the untrained ear, Lee's voice sounded as cool as normal, but Kara knew better. He was exhausted and in no mood to deal with anyone right now.

"A, uh, small problem with the upcoming CAP sir." When Lee turned his sharp eyes to him, Hot Dog stammered slightly. "Tiny, tiny problem."

Lee sighed, began moving over to him, even as Kara tried to pull him away. "I'll deal with it Lee, go hit your bunk."

He shook his head. "You're supposed to report to CIC, remember? Wasn't that the deal?"

"Yeah, so you could go hit your bunk!" She said just loud enough for him and no one else to hear.

"I will," he promised. "It's probably just Costanza complaining about whoever his wingman is. I'll listen for exactly thirty seconds and then send him out anyway. Go to CIC."

Reluctantly, seeing the logic of that, Kara nodded and left him to the flight deck.

Lee continued his journey over to the younger pilot. "What's up Hot Dog?"

"It's Crow, sir." Hot Dot had been paired with the nugget for today's CAP. "He's supposed to fly with me today, but he hasn't shown up. I've been waiting for twenty minutes."

Lee swallowed back a sigh, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. "No one's out there right now?" In light of recent events, the Vipers' CAPs were extremely important to patrol for Cylons.

"No, sir." Hot Dog actually looked a little frightened of him. Inwardly, Lee wondered how bad his appearance must look if the happy-go-lucky pilot in front of him was freaked. Lee quickly calculated how much time they would waste trying to find Crow, how much time they had already wasted. Who could he get in the next thirty seconds to fly the CAP?

_We can't have our CAG getting sloppy on the job again._ His father's voice rang so clearly in his head that for a second Lee was sure if he turned he'd see Bill Adama standing there next to him. Gods damn it. His father was right. He was responsible for his pilots; he was responsible for fixing this.

"Alright, are the Vipers prepped?" he turned to Tyrol who was standing nearby. At his nod, Lee couldn't help the small sigh that escaped him this time. "I'll fly the CAP, Hot Dog." Turning to the other pilots, his face grew stern. "The second I land, I want Crow waiting in the ready room. Someone better put him there, understood?"

"Yes sir," the two pilots threw out quick salutes and hurried off the deck.

Lee nodded for Hot Dog to get in his Viper and began the weary walk over to the other bird. "Frak me," he muttered. Gods, there were times he wished he could just put a bullet in his brain if it meant he would get some peace.

And so Lee grudgingly flew the CAP with Hot Dog, grateful beyond words that it ended up being an uneventful one. Still, a few hours of nothingness was probably just as dangerous right now. He had to force himself to concentrate, and more than one he fought against his eyes closing. He had never been more thankful in his life for Hot Dog's incessant and usually annoying chatter; at least it distracted his mind from his own misery.

The end of the CAP couldn't have come any sooner. Lee's hands were beginning to shake, and he wouldn't be surprised if his eyes had started crossing at some point. The combination of staring at the DRADIS screen and staring out at an endless array of stars had become disorientating, and a migraine of epic proportions was pressing in.

Making sure his comm was off, he groaned in frustration at his own body. He wanted so badly to rest, but he still had way too much crap to do. Why did it have to fail him now?

He barely remembered landing. He sat in the cockpit, trying to control his breathing, eyes closed, while the deck crew began the post-flight check and opened his canopy. He felt hands unhook his O2 line and pull his helmet off, but he couldn't work up the energy to acknowledge them.

"Captain?"

But then he realized it was Cally, and knew he had to. He forced his exhaustion back, smiling at her, pretending to be embarrassed. "Sorry, lost in my thoughts for a second."

She nodded, disbelieving, but didn't question him. "Starbuck's here waiting for you, sir. She doesn't… look… happy," she mentioned.

He stared at her, dead serious. "Cally, I'll give you one million cubits if you help me fly back out of here right now."

She laughed, her concern forgotten. "Sorry sir, your money's no good here. And I don't think I want Chief and Starbuck joining forces to kill me."

He gave a low chuckle at that, nodding his thanks when she pulled his collar off and stepped away. By the time he got his body to stand up and climb out to the ladder, Cally was already on the other side of the deck, working on something else. He slowly made his way down the ladder, noticing that Starbuck was talking to Hot Dog at the moment and hadn't yet seen him exit the Viper, thank the gods.

The second his feet hit the ground, Lee knew this wasn't going to end well. The deck was supposed to be solid under him, but everything was tilting like crazy. The sights and sounds of activity around him suddenly dulled, and Lee had to grab the railing of the ladder to keep from falling over. He closed his eyes tightly, willing his body to hold out just a little bit longer. 'Not now, not now, not now-'

"Apollo?" a voice, sharper than everything else, cut through the fog. Lee opened his eyes to see Chief next to him, eyeing him worriedly. He seemed to be taking in Lee's entire appearance, and wasn't happy with what he saw. "You alright?" he kept his voice quiet, not alerting anyone else. Lee was supremely grateful for that. He didn't even try to school his features, just nodded. Chief took a step closer. "You sure?"

Lee cleared his throat. "Yeah," he answered, and even he was surprised at how faint his voice sounded. He pulled himself up as straight as he could, took one step, and nearly fell again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Chief's voice was still quiet, but definitely nervous. He gripped Lee's upper arms and pushed him back so the pilot was forced to sit on the bottom step of the ladder. While Lee closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing yet again, Chief glanced around the mostly empty hangar deck, wondering who he should send to alert sick bay.

"Just get Starbuck," Lee's voice was quiet and drained.

Chief understood- but didn't necessarily agree with- Lee's need to keep this quiet. He gripped Lee's shoulder for a second, saying softly, "Don't go anywhere," and then hurried over to Starbuck.

Lee wasn't planning on moving anytime soon. He focused on taking slow, deep breaths, stared at his hands, and fought against the tunnel vision that kept threatening to close in.

"Lee?" suddenly they were standing in front of him. He couldn't lift his head right away so Kara did it for him, hands on either side of his face. She stared at him intently, eyes locked with his. He tried to think of something funny to say, but nothing came to mind. "You stupid motherfrakker," she hissed at him. "You're supposed to be in your rack!" As she spoke, she laid the back of her hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever. Now that he thought about it, he was feeling unusually warm.

"Someone had to fly the CAP," his throat felt like gravel. He tried to swallow and get more moisture into his mouth. It was too dry.

"It doesn't always have to be you!" her voice rose a little but not a lot, and Lee was thankful for that. The migraine was kicking his ass right now.

"Yell at me later?" he asked, hating the note of pleading in his voice, even if it was just Kara and Chief. "Just… just get me out of here."

Kara's face softened, and for a second one of her thumbs rubbed against his cheek. "Come on, I'll walk you to sick bay." She reached down to take hold of his arm.

He shook his head, wincing at the motion. "No. Pilots' quarters."

She frowned. "Lee…" Next to her, Chief's eyes were narrowed in concern, head shaking a little.

"Just let me sleep it off. I promise I'll sleep, okay? I don't-" he paused to catch his breath. Why was he out of breath? "I don't want it on a report that…"

That his father might read. Kara wanted to scream and curse his stubborn pride- his _stupid_ pride- but he looked so damn miserable she couldn't do it. Plus, if the situation were reversed, she'd probably want the same thing.

"Okay, okay," she sighed. Placing one hand on his shoulder and the other grasping his elbow, she helped him to stand.

Bad idea. The second he was up on his feet, all color drained from his face. He shook his head just once, croaked out a confused "Kara?", and then his eyes rolled back and he dropped. Only her and Chief's quick reflexes prevented him from further hurting himself.

"Frak!" Kara yelled at the same time that Tyrol shouted for Cally to get a medic. Then they were left staring at each other and the unconscious man between them. Kara cradled his upper body against her. "Frak," she repeated quieter, placing her hand on Lee's pale, overheated face.

"Well," Chief unzipped the front of Lee's flight suit, and Kara helped pull down the top half, hoping to cool him off a little. "I guess he'll get some sleep now."

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TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Chapter 4

Things were very hazy when Lee opened his eyes

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc.

So I mentioned this in my other story's latest chapter, and I should do it here too: I'm in major life-upheaval right now. I just got a job in New York City and moved there, and I just got an apartment and started working and blah blah blah I'm-busy-cakes blah. I'm not at all saying that I'm putting these stories on the backburner, but the chapters won't be posted as regularly as they first were. As the late posting of this story indicates. I'll try to keep at one a week, but the lateness of this chapter suggests I'm probably a liar. Sorry! Wish me luck!

Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and favoriting and whatnotting this story- I always get so excited to see an alert in my inbox! Keep 'em coming please!

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CHAPTER FOUR

Things were very hazy when Lee opened his eyes. He groaned against the bright light and tried to go back to sleep, but a hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to face front again.

"Oh no you don't, Captain. I need to check some things out before you go back to your little drug-induced nap," a voice rang in his ears, causing him to wince.

"Huh?" he opened his eyes more cautiously this time to see Doc Cottle in front of him, and he felt like groaning again. This was so not how he wanted to spend his day.

When the Doc opened his mouth to speak, Lee knew what was coming. "Can you tell me-"

"My name is Lee Adama, I'm in _Galactica_'s sick bay, and what day it is depends on how long I've been out."

Cottle snorted. "So your brain's no more messed up than usual. Good. And it's been seven hours."

"Seven?!" Lee made a move to get up, but was easily pushed back down by a combination of extreme dizziness and Cottle's hand on his chest.

"And you'll be staying here for at least seven more. You remember what happened?"

Lee hesitated, not from memory loss but from embarrassment. "I fell in the hangar deck."

Cottle was scowling now. "_Collapsed_ would be a better assessment. You _collapsed_ because your body's pissed off at you. So am I."

"Doc, I can't-"

"You haven't been sleeping. Or, from the looks of things, eating all that much either. You're exhausted and running a fever because your immune system is frakked right now." Sometimes Cottle's glare seemed to burn harsher than even the Old Man's. Lee nodded, eyes going to the IV stand and then tube attached to the back of his hand. Cottle noticed. "Antibiotics and some nutrients you've been lacking. When that bag's done I'm going to switch in a new one. If, after they've run out, your fever's down and your common sense is back, I'll release you to light duty. You take two days to get some real sleep, and we can pretend this little bout of stupidity never happened, got it?"

He nodded again, still not meeting the Doc's eyes. Cottle sighed. "Look kid, I thought we talked about this after that whole thirty-three minute debacle. You have a job to do, fine. But ignoring everything else is irresponsible to you and your pilots. Unless you want them to find an all new CAG from gods-know-where, you need to take better care of yourself. Everyone is better off when you do."

"Yeah," Lee's voice was quiet, but Cottle figured (hoped) he got the message.

"Yeah," the Doc echoed. He glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. "Now, I was going to give you something in a few minutes to help you sleep, but I've heard that the Commander is finally on his way down here. I could give it to you now if you want."

Lee was startled by the offer. He assumed Cottle wanted to knock him out so he and his father couldn't disturb every patient in sick bay with their inevitable argument. That was probably a good idea. He nodded gratefully, only slightly ashamed that he was taking the easy way out. He settled back down as Cottle administered the sedative, closed his eyes, and allowed the warmth to flood his system. He was somewhere between aware and unconscious when he heard what sounded like the curtain around his bed being slid open.

"Commander," Cottle acknowledged blandly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming down. You just missed him."

"What?" the deep rumble of Adama's voice reached Lee even in his current state. He let it surround him, comfort him, as he sank deeper into the oblivion.

Cottle recognized the moment Lee was fully asleep, turning to look at the older Adama. "He was awake for a bit but I gave him a sedative to make sure his body gets the rest it needs. He'll be out for a few more hours."

Adama took a moment to process that, as the sight of his son unconscious in a hospital bed was more than a little distracting. "That's all he needs?"

No, Cottle wanted to say. But who was he to get involved, so instead he shrugged. One of the new medics approached with something for him to sign. Cottle barely looked at the form as he spoke, "Some real sleep, some real food, and Apollo will be back to being Apollo in a few days, three tops." That was a truthful assessment, if a little oversimplified. He handed the papers back to the medic and waved him away.

Bill nodded, "Good… good," he said quietly, and turned to leave.

"You're not staying then?" Cottle asked. 'He needs _you_, you stubborn ass!' he thought again. Not that he actually cared about these two or anything.

"Just wanted to see how he was," Bill nearly fumbled his response. "I'm needed back in CIC." He wasn't sure why he couldn't stay, but he couldn't. Maybe because he usually wasn't one to offer comfort. Maybe because he had no idea what to say if Lee happened to wake up. Or maybe because just sitting and staring at his son who had chosen to suffer in silence made him feel disappointed and angry. At Lee and at himself.

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Lee did feel better the next time he awoke, he had to admit. His head was no longer pounding, the lights didn't hurt his eyes, and he could swallow without his throat feeling like it was burning from the inside out. So that was something.

His bed was still curtained off, thankfully. Lee really didn't want anyone to see the CAG tired and weak, flat on his back in bed, while everyone else had to work like usual. His hand itched to pick up a phone and check in with the CAP status, but he knew he couldn't. For one thing, he was sure Starbuck could handle it, and for another he was pretty sure she and Cottle would come together to kick his ass if he tried.

He was still tired and still woozy from the drugs when the curtain opened just a little, and a medic slipped in next to his bed. At least, Lee was pretty sure he was a medic. They had added a few civilians to medical staff recently, and Lee was still trying to learn names and faces.

"Captain Adama?" the medic asked.

"Yes?" his voice was deeper than usual, feeling even heavier in his throat. He almost sounded like his father. _Great…_ Sometimes Lee wished he didn't know how to think. At all. Seriously, how much easier would life be? For the time being, he resolved to not think as much.

…It was then Lee realized that maybe he was more than a little woozy. And that he had processed all of this while the medic had been talking. The man was looking at him expectantly. "What?" he rubbed a hand against the side of his face, hoping it would help him focus.

The medic seemed startled. "I, uh, I asked if you minded going over your medical history with me for a moment?" While Lee tried to contemplate just what the medic was asking, the other man took Lee's silence as reticence. He stammered on, "It's just procedure, sir. We don't have your records on file from before the nuclear attacks."

"I wasn't supposed to be here," Lee replied, reality slowly seeping into his brain.

"Captain?" The medic was confused.

Lee was too. "I've been on the ship for months. Why do this now?" He looked down at his hand, currently still attached to an IV. The bag was empty. "Can you take this out, please?" he clumsily offered the hand to the medic.

"I'll have someone do that soon, sir. First I need to ask you a few questions?" The medic asked. Lee nodded absentmindedly, playing with the IV tubing inserted in his hand.

"Sir?" For a second, the medic looked like he wanted to wave his hand to get Lee's full attention, but he refrained. "How long have you been in the military?"

Lee gave a short laugh with absolutely no humor. "Since conception." The medic stared at him with a strange look on his face. "I was always going to be here. Not _Galactica_ here, exactly, but in the service. I had to be," he tried to explain. Part of him wondered if maybe he was talking too much, but then the other part reminded him of his vow to think less. So he continued quieter, bitter, "This is my birthright." And now there was no escaping it, was there? _Stop thinking, Lee._ The IV hand was starting to irritate him. He shook it again. "Are you sure you can't take this out now?" His head was still heavy, so he leaned it back into the pillow, eyes drifting shut almost involuntarily. He was still so tired.

It sounded as though the medic was moving away from his bed. "I'll go see if someone can help you with that, sir. You should probably rest for a while longer."

Lee forced his eyes open, moving to say… something? To thank him? But, shockingly, no one was there. "What… hello?" he called out, voice straining.

"Captain?" the curtain was pulled back to reveal one of the medics- not the same one- and Cottle, who went about detaching the IV from Lee's hand.

"A couple minutes to get your bearings, and I think you'll be free to go, Captain," Cottle told him.

Lee nodded, trying to look past both of them into the rest of the sick bay. "Where's that other medic?" he asked.

"Which one?"

"The guy who was just in here, asked me…" he trailed off at the slightly confused looks on the other two's faces.

"There wasn't a medic here," the woman said. "I've been on shift for the last four hours."

"No, no. He was just in here… my medical history," Lee told them. Right? Isn't that what had happened? Everything that happened after his collapse on the flight deck was blurry.

Cottle snorted- his version of outright laughter. "We've had you doped on some pretty good sedatives, Apollo. Chances are you've had some very colorful dreams today. Though why you'd dream that…" He raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't dream it," Lee protested half-heartedly. The medic had really been there, right? What the frak kind of drugs had he been given?

"Everything checks out, Major," the female medic reported. Cottle dismissed her with a nod and then turned back to Lee.

"Alright kid, here's the deal. Light duty for two days. Eight hours of sleep a night-" off of Lee's incredulous look, "-Okay, seven hours a night. Any less and you're looking at a trip back here. And you don't want that. I know I sure as hell don't."

"Thanks Doc," he answered, half-sarcastic, half-sincere. He eased himself off the bed, taking his time buttoning up his jacket as it also gave him time to get his balance. If Cottle noticed- of course he did, he notices everything- he said nothing.

The walk back to quarters was thankfully quiet. The few people he did pass along the way either saluted him pleasantly or offered brief well wishes. It both embarrassed him and (surprisingly) pleased him. Part of him wondered if there was a ship-wide prank being pulled on him. These were people he'd only known for a few months, and in that time he'd managed to take the place of their beloved CAG, fight with their beloved Commander, and hold a gun to the head of their… XO. Okay, the Tigh incident was a bad example. But the rest… Lee just never knew where he fit in with _Galactica_'s crew.

"Well, I've seen that look before," a voice drawled from somewhere to his left. Kara had managed to sneak up next to him and was following him down the corridor.

"What look?" he asked, purposefully not glancing at her.

"The Lee-Adama-is-overthinking look. It's a classic." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her grinning.

"Kara…" Her name came out more as a sigh.

Of course she kept talking. "All the signs are there. The furrowed brow, the distracted, troubled stare."

"Kara…" He refused to smile. This was a contest of wills now, and he would not be beaten.

Neither would she. "The brooding hunch of the shoulders," she continued as she lightly knocked hers into his side.

"Stop it," he protested good-naturedly. He still didn't crack a smile though, and that was Kara's objective.

"What I can't get, though, is just what he's overthinking about now," she followed him into the S.O.Q. and casually sat at the center table as Lee went to his rack, sitting down heavily.

"Don't do this."

"I mean, whatever it is can't be the end of the world, considering, you know, that already happened and- aak!" Whatever else Kara had intended on saying was cut off by Lee's pillow hitting her face. She laughed, tossing it back to him, conceding the battle to him.

Once he was confident he had won, he finally smiled. "You know me so well," he said, only joking a little.

"Yes, I do." And she wasn't joking at all. The smile had left her face, leaving something else more determined and serious. "You just spent about twenty-four hours in sick bay because you were too busy worrying about everything to take care of yourself. That stops now."

"Cottle already gave me the lecture, okay? I'm sorry," he stretched out on the mattress, laying on his back.

"I'm sorry too," she said after a pause. Surprised, he turned over on his side, facing her with a questioning look. "You were…" she struggled to find the right word, "…sick, and I didn't know. I wasn't, wasn't there for you. You've been there for me in the past and I should have… been a better friend."

Lee was sitting up now, not believing he was getting an actual heart-to-heart apology from Starbuck.

She smiled cautiously. "A lot's happened in the past few months. And I know I did…" _Baltar. Gods, don't say Baltar_. "…some stupid things, and then I left, and then I came back with a Cylon…" she paused to take a breath. "And we haven't talked about any of it."

"We don't have to talk about it Kara," Lee cut in.

"Oh, I don't want to," she said quickly, firmly. Lee couldn't help but smile at that. "But I want you to know that I will talk, if you need me to. And I'll listen if you need me to. I just… I don't want to see you like that again, okay? Like you were on the flight deck and on _Niobe_. I want you to see that people here want to help you."

Lee stood up to stand in front of her, pulling her up from her chair and into a hug. "I know you do, Kara." He rested his head on her shoulder. "Thanks." They stood in the embrace for a moment longer when he whispered in her ear, "Can I get that apology in writing?"

"Gods, Lee," she whined, shoving him away and back to his bunk. But both of them were smiling. It wasn't until Lee was back in his rack, fast asleep, that Kara let the smile drop. She had told him that people wanted to help him, but he had only said "I know _you_ do." Did he really not believe that there were others who cared about him? "Damn it Apollo," she whispered to his sleeping form. _How can you be such a frakking idiot?_

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TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter 5

The Light of Apollo

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

Sorry this took so long, I've been trying for forever to get the argument in this chapter just right. I could probably still work on it another 5 weeks and not be finished with it, but I won't do that to y'all! But on the plus side, chapter 6 is almost done too! That will definitely be posted by next week, I promise!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc. The lyrics are from an old Sacred Harp song "Idumea." If you want to hear it, go to youtube and search "Tim Eriksen – Am I born to die?" and/or (I suggest and!) "Sacred Harp 47b Idumea (And Am I Born to Die?)."

Thanks to all reviewers/alert-ers!

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CHAPTER FIVE

He managed to make his way into the chamber as the congregation began to sing.

"_And am I born to die,_

_to lay this body down?_

_And must my trembling spirit fly_

_into a world unknown:"_

He stood uncertainly at the back, hands clasped tightly in front of him. He was nervous; speaking to the Father always made him nervous. He had been singled out by the leader to do this particular mission, and while it was of course an honor, it was also a burden. His first mission- he had to do this right.

"_A land of deepest shade,_

_unpierced by human thought,_

_the dreary regions of the dead_

_where all things are forgot?"_

The Father was leading the singing, his hand rising and falling with the beat of the song. He looked at each member of the crowd in turn, connecting with them. When his eyes met those of the man standing in the back, Father beckoned him forward with his other hand. Nervously, he obeyed. The crowd parted so he could stand directly in front of Father.

"_Soon as from earth I go,_

_what will become of me?_

_Eternal happiness or woe_

_must then my portion be."_

There was a beat of silence among the crowd. Father looked at him questioningly, and he took a slow, deep breath and nodded. Father nodded back. Then a voice from somewhere behind him, quiet and hesitant, asked, "Father?"

Another moment of silence. Then, "We are very close, my children, very close. Our brother here has been on _Galactica_, and he has met the Incarnate." Father turned his attention to the man in front of him. "Isn't that right, my son?"

The silence seemed to get louder, press at him from all angles. He knew how he had to answer, even if he was afraid of the attention on him. "Yes, Father."

Everyone seemed to let out a breath at once, and he joined in with their relief. They had been searching for a long time, some of them their whole lives, for the Incarnate. He thought it to be rather funny that they only found Him after most of the human race had been obliterated. The gods' intervention, maybe, had saved Him. And saved them all. He smiled up at the Father, felt the people around him smiling as well.

Father did not smile. But he never smiled, so the man was not nervous, not anymore. He could tell that Father was pleased. Father spoke again, his voice strong and resolved, "We are close, my children, very close. We need to investigate a bit more, and then it will be time."

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Two days of light duty. Lee had been grounded before- Kara _still_ teased him about that one time in flight school- but he never got used to it. And he could easily say these were the weirdest two days he had experienced since the Cylons attacked. First of all, people were _nice_ to him. Not in a "you're a fellow pilot" kind of way, but in a "you're a fellow human being" kind of way. Crewmen he barely knew asked about his wellbeing, offered honest suggestions for how to pass the time. His pilots were quieter in S.O.Q. so he could get his rest. For the first time since he was appointed CAG, they kept their petty complaints and fights to themselves instead of making him fix everything. It was _weird_. He knew it wouldn't last forever, and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Kara was keeping her word, too. She was still Kara- teasing him, joking, taking his money in triad- but when he did paperwork too late into the night, she was the one who interrupted him, reminded him of the seven hour rule, and dragged him to his rack. She shoved a tray of food in front of him and made him eat, checked to make sure he wasn't running a fever, and sang obnoxious songs directly in his ear when he wore his overthinking face.

Because, of course, the two day break from flying didn't mean a two day break from thinking. Lee was still unsettled over a few things. For one, for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt like he was being watched. Often when he walked down a corridor he had the urge to look over his shoulder as though he was being followed. In crowds of people, he couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him. And no matter how often he tried to convince Kara or the Doc, no one believed that there had been a strange medic in the sick bay that day. The pragmatic side of Lee wanted to agree with them, chalk it up to his exhaustion and meds, but he couldn't.

And then there was his father. Light duty didn't excuse him from shifts in the CIC, and it didn't excuse him from interacting with the Old Man either. Their conversations were brief, professional, and without any emotional contact… 'so I guess I can take comfort in the familiarity of that,' Lee told himself. It wasn't as though Lee wanted to talk about what had happened- he really didn't- but getting the cold shoulder from his father did bother him. And being bothered bothered him. He was getting what he wanted: his father was treating him like he would any other officer, letting him do his job, not taking an overly personal interest in him. That was what Lee wanted.

So why was it bothering him?

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"And the mighty Apollo takes up his bow once again," Kara's voice drawled from behind him as Lee zipped up his flight suit. Lee grimaced good-naturedly and stuck his tongue out at her, eliciting chuckles from some of the other pilots. Part of him wondered if his behavior was appropriate for a CAG, but the larger part of him- the part that was equal measures bored and anxious from the last two days of not flying- didn't care. He was flying again and frak if that didn't make him happy.

"What's the matter Starbuck, did you miss me?" he asked, his voice purposefully airy and casual.

She snorted. "Miss you? You were always here! Gods, Lee, you're the only pilot who uses two days off to do paperwork!" She lightly punched his shoulder as he stepped out of S.O.Q.

He turned to face her. "You're right. Next time I'll just let the next senior pilot handle all the paperwork."

Starbuck's voice followed him around the corner as he left. "Next time? What next time? Lee! No, Lee, I'm sorry! I love you, don't leave me!" He smiled as he made his way to the flight deck.

Crow was waiting for him at the deck. After Lee had regained his senses (okay, regained consciousness), he had decided that Crow's punishment for missing his CAP with Hot Dog was to fly every CAP for the next week with him. He had discovered a long time ago that flying with the top pilots always scared the crap out of the nuggets. Plus, there was no way Crow would miss a CAP if the CAG always knew his schedule.

The nugget saluted sharply. "Sir!"

Lee returned the salute, keeping the smile off his face. "Alright Ensign, let's hope this one's quiet and boring, sound good?"

Crow almost smiled. "Yes, sir."

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Unfortunately, it wasn't. Just at the end of the patrol, three Raiders appeared off to the right of the two Vipers.

"_Galactica, _Apollo.Three Raiders incoming, two o'clock!" He maneuvered his Viper around, pushing hard on his Viper. "Crow, follow me."

"S-sir?" Crow's voice sounded especially faint over the comm system.

"Get between the fleet and the Raiders!" Lee flipped his bird over and fired on the closest Raider, taking it out. Keeping his sights on the other two, he risked a quick glance at his DRADIS screen. Crow's Viper was still on the perimeter, not moving. "Crow!"

"Captain, I-" a gasping sound accompanied the nugget's words. Frak, he was panicking.

"_Galactica_, Apollo. We could use some back-up."

"Roger that, Apollo. Alert squadron is prepped and on their way," Dee answered almost immediately.

Lee focused on his wingman and the two Raiders between them. The Cylons seemed to be deciding whether to make a run for the fleet or the lone Viper that was cut off. Lee flew his Viper directly at them, hoping to pull their attention away from both. "Crow," he spoke again, purposefully lowering his pitch and speaking slower. "I need you to get your head in the game, okay? This is simple, just like training. I'm right here to help you."

The Raiders decided to go for the easy target and had twisted end on end to face Crow. Lee pushed harder on his thrusters, hoping to get there in time. "Crow, you with me?"

"Captain?" he spoke hesitantly. He sounded so frakking young.

"Listen to me, Ensign. On my mark, I want you to pull your bird up as hard and fast as you can, alright? That's all you have to do." Crow didn't answer, but there was nothing else Lee could do but hope he was listening. "You can do this Crow, you can do this." _And gods, I hope I can too._

He took a deep breath then rolled his Viper to the side, still coming in hot. One of the Raiders noticed him on his tail and flipped back around to engage him. Lee almost sighed in relief. He dodged the incoming fire, swerving back and forth so the Cylon couldn't get a bead on him. A short burst of fire from him, and the Raider's wing blew off. Not enough to kill it, but it did give Lee time to go after the other one. With any luck, the Alert squad would be there to clean up soon.

"Okay Crow, you ready? Pull up fast, you got it?"

"Yes sir," Crow was still stuttering, but hopefully he still remembered how to fly.

"On my mark," Lee began, coming up behind the Raider. He couldn't fire on it now, not without risking Crow. "Three," he pushed even closer, mentally calculating how far the debris of the Raider would reach when it exploded. "Two," he was nearly alongside it. "One," and then he remembered the broken Raider behind them.

"Mark!" he yelled out. Hoping Crow was pulling up, Lee pushed as hard as he could on the throttle, getting his Viper under the Raider and out in front. Then he abruptly stopped and spun, so now he was facing the incoming Cylon. Thankfully, Crow was up and out of the way. Lee fired his ammo, aiming for the right side of the Raider. He hit his target and the Cylon exploded, sending a large chunk of the now-dead Raider into its wingman. And then there was nothing left of either Raider but debris.

Lee breathed a sigh of relief. "Crow, you alright?"

"I, uh… I think I'm going to throw up, Captain," was the answer. Lee almost laughed. Almost.

"Damn, Apollo, I guess those two days off didn't mess with your flying," Kat's voice sounded in his ear. The Alert Squadron was there, three Vipers flying alongside them.

"Just in time, guys, just in time," Lee let himself laugh now. "Can you make it home, Crow?"

"Yes, sir." His voice sounded stronger, but completely embarrassed. Lee didn't have the heart to tell him that this was probably something he would never live down, _depending on how long he lives_, Lee reminded himself. And on that morose thought, he led his pilots back to _Galactica_.

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Bill was sitting at his desk and waiting when the knock sounded at the hatch. He glanced up, already knowing who was on the other side. "Come in," he called out. When his son entered and shut the hatch behind him, he took off his glasses and tossed aside the report he had been pretending to read. "Something on your mind, Captain?" he asked.

When Lee didn't answer right away, Bill straightened and studied his son more closely. Lee's hands were clenched into fists at his side, and his body was held tense. Bill could see the muscle in Lee's jaw tightening as though he was gritting his teeth. Something had happened. "Lee?" he asked, dropping his pretense. When word had been sent to him that Lee was on his way to see him, Bill had assumed it would be to report on the incident from CAP. But obviously, Lee was not here about the patrol. "What happened?"

Lee had been pacing, but now he stopped to face his father. His gaze was intense, blue eyes looking even bluer than normal. "Someone trashed my bunk." His voice was quiet and too calm. Bill knew what that meant- Lee was _pissed_.

"Someone trashed your bunk?" Bill parroted the words back, not sure he was hearing correctly.

"I sent Crow to get checked out at sickbay, I did the post-flight checks, and I went back to S.O.Q." Lee had resumed his pacing. "Middle of the day, hardly anyone is ever there, I was going to get some racktime-" which meant Lee was still tired, still getting his strength back. Bill wondered if he would have mentioned this little detail if he weren't so worked up. "-I pull back the curtain to my bunk and it's…" His hands waved kind of uselessly in the air, mimicking an explosion. "It's trashed. My stuff is ripped apart, thrown around. Everything was gone through, like they were looking for something."

"They?" was all Bill could say. He was completely thrown by his rambling, agitated son. This was probably the most Lee had said to him that wasn't military-related in… years, maybe.

Lee continued, not breaking his stride or his breath. "I've been saying for days, haven't I? Something weird is going on. That damn medic in sick bay, the feeling I've been having…"

Bill managed to block Lee's path, forcing his son to stop pacing. "What feeling?" he asked, using his best commander voice.

Fortunately, it worked. Lee stilled, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Ever since Cottle sprung me, it's… it's like I'm being followed or something. Watched. Every time I walk down a corridor, it feels…" he shook his head, embarrassed. "I don't know why, but I can't shake it. And now this?"

There was a beat of silence while Lee collected himself, and Bill tried to sort through the insanity of the last two minutes. He had never seen Lee act like this, and there was really only one explanation that Bill could see. "Lee-" the second he used that gentle tone, Lee's head snapped up, and he actually took a step back. He knew what was coming. Bill did too, but couldn't help but continue. "-the last few days have been trying. It's not surprising that you would feel," he searched for the right word, knowing there probably wasn't one, "-off for a few days."

Lee shook his head. "Dad-" his tone was warning.

Bill ignored it, pushed on. "You were exhausted, sick. You were on medication." Lee was shaking his head, turning away from his father and leaning against the far wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, defiant. "I know, Lee. I know you've been under a lot of stress recently. But it'll pass, it always does."

"So I'm making this up?" Lee's voice was quiet and calm again. Dangerous.

"I'm not saying that. It's just… the mind can play tricks on you. A couple more days of rest, and you'll feel better." Bill tried to remain calm. Lee was always so defensive around him, and Bill couldn't help but feel it grate on his own nerves.

"And my bunk getting searched? Did my mind create that? You can ask Kara and Helo- it was very real." Lee banged his head lightly back against the bulkhead.

His belligerent tone took Bill back to all those arguments they had had when Lee was a teenager. Lee was always so convinced that Bill needed to be argued with and opposed. It didn't matter the subject, Lee wanted to question his father. It had irked Bill like nothing else. Did his son not trust his judgment at all? Those old feelings resurged through him, and when the words came to him he didn't think before speaking. "How do you know it wasn't a pilot?"

Lee's head snapped up to stare at Bill. "What?"

"How do you know one of the pilots didn't mess with your things?" he asked. Lee flinched and tried to cover it up, but Bill noticed. The hurt and wariness in his eyes was only there for a second, but Bill felt it for much longer. _Oh, this is not going to end well._

"You think one of my pilots would go after me?" The anger had returned full force. "Why? You tell me, why would they?"

Somehow, Bill had found his way back to his desk. He stood behind it, looking very official, very much like a commander. But he felt more like the father from ten years earlier, arguing fruitlessly with his hardheaded son. They were back in his study at their house on one of the military bases, this same desk the only barrier between them. He stared down at Lee, not seeing the Captain and full-grown man in front of him, just a kid. "A stupid prank, maybe…"

"It wasn't much of a prank, Dad," Lee cut in. "It doesn't make sense."

"And some phantom medic stalking you is? Look at this logically Lee," he tried to appeal to his son's well-known pragmatic side. "You mutinied, you abandoned your post. And now you're back, and to them it's like nothing has changed. Someone was just letting off a little steam, retaliating for what you did."

"What I did?" Lee's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked at Bill, incredulous. "Tell me, _sir_, what did I do?"

It was the 'sir' that got to him. That tone somewhere between mocking and disdain, disbelief radiating from it. Bill felt himself start to lose control of his reigned-in temper. "You abandoned them, Lee. You captained them, expected them to follow you into battle, and then when all hell breaks loose, you're not there for them. Honestly, did you not expect there to be a little consequence for your actions?"

"Consequence?" Lee's volume rose sharply. "Like I got off scot-free from all that? Like I haven't suffered the consequences every frakking day since? My pilots know why I did what I did, and they accept it."

"Apparently one or more of them don't," Bill's voice rose to match his son's. "That's all this is, Lee. Retaliation for the mutiny." He absentmindedly gripped the glass of water in front of him on the desk.

"So it was my pilots that did this? Or you?" Lee pushed forward, standing on just the other side of the desk.

Reflexively, Bill threw the glass off to the side against the bulkhead. Neither Adama acknowledged the shattering sound or the glass shards that scattered around them. "Watch your tone, Captain," he barked, leaning forward with a dark glare.

Lee's hands were clenched into fists again in front of him. "Gods! You can't keep doing this! You can't treat me both ways and expect me to know which one to be!"

Bill wasn't really sure what Lee meant by that. "You are a Captain in this fleet, and you will act like one, got it? If you were anyone else right now-"

"But I'm not!" Lee cut in. "I'm your frakking son, and you can't expect me to be the best at both all the time!"

"Believe me, I don't," Bill threw back at him. "What do you want from me, Lee? You won't _let_ me be your father when I try to be."

Lee shook his head. "You criticize me as a soldier, but punish me as your son. I can't keep up with it. I'm doing the best I can with what I've got."

"Doing the best you can? That's what you call sedition?" At some point, Bill had pushed himself all the way up to yelling. And Lee was too.

"I was doing what I thought was right! And looking back on it, I _was_ right. Everything was going to hell and I had to find a way to fix it, because nobody else could!"

"So you left. You knew I was dying in sick bay, and you chose to leave with her instead!"

Lee let out a huff of laughter, though there was no humor in his eyes. "So that's it. That's how you see it. I abandoned my dying parent and took off with someone else? What, did you think I was trading in on the old model for a newer, better one? Wow Dad, you're right. I watched you get shot, right in front of me. And even though they wouldn't let me out of the brig, let alone go to sick bay to see you, I didn't care, because it meant I could hang out with President Roslin."

"Stop, Lee," Bill growled.

Lee didn't stop. "But of course, I was only really with her because I knew you wouldn't like it, right? I purposefully chose to ally myself with the one person in this fleet who pissed you off more than I did." He leaned in closer. "And because I can't be perfect son and perfect soldier at the same time, you just write me off as bad at both, is that it? I mean, look at this- you've forgiven the President. You've forgiven Kara for going off to Caprica, Helo for bringing back a Cylon, and a third of the fleet for following us. But me? I guess it's just easier to hate me, right?"

Involuntarily, Bill's arm reared back, fist ready. Lee flinched for just a second, stumbling out of range. Bill stopped himself before he could swing. There was a dead silence, a thick tension, in the air. Neither of them moved. Then Lee let out a choked breath that shook his entire body. Without another word he turned and left, the hatch slamming shut behind him. Bill was left in his wake, his own hands shaking. He gripped the edge of his desk tightly, willing himself to calm down. When he finally felt able to move again, he turned to where he had thrown the glass. It was only then that he realized that it must have hit the shelf instead of the bulkhead. And on the floor was a picture frame, knocked over from the impact. The picture of him and his two young sons, standing happy and proud in front of a Viper. The glass protecting the photograph was cracked and crumbling now. _Well, that's frakking appropriate…_

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TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter 6

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

I know y'all must be shocked. I said I would post within the week, and _I am_. Wow. Just, you know, don't expect me to keep my word again…

I actually think I like this chapter; I tried something different with pacing and intercutting scenes. Let me know if you like it!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc.

Thanks to all reviewers/alert-ers! PLEASE keep them coming!

And, in honor of the special (and hopefully historic) day in American history, I hope that all of my US readers over the age of 18 are registered and voting today!! And, if you're voting in California, I hope that you vote no on Prop. 8!

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CHAPTER SIX

Lee wanted so badly to slam the hatch shut once he entered S.O.Q., but he knew people were in here sleeping now, and he couldn't do that to his pilots. Instead he stayed facing it, leaning his head against the cool metal. After a few seconds of that, he sat on his rack, forcing himself to breathe deeply and slowly. When that didn't work he tried counting to ten, then twenty, then fifty. He still couldn't calm down, and a scream of rage kept tearing at his throat to get out. He swallowed it back down, trying to keep control.

"Apollo?" a soft voice called out to him from another bed. Lee jumped; he had thought everyone in here was asleep, but there was Helo, sitting up in his upper bunk and watching him warily. His legs were swinging in the air a little, and such a childish gesture on such a large man normally would have made Lee smile. Normally. But right now, every movement he saw made him tense even more, for no reason at all.

"Yeah?" Lee grunted, gaze fixed downward. There was a heavy weight settling on his chest. It felt like the air he brought in on every inhale wasn't making up for the air he lost on every exhale.

Helo took a moment to study the Captain- his tense posture, his fists clenching and unclenching with incredible strength. Lee looked about ready to explode. After days of seeing him worn down and exhausted, Helo was thrown by the amount of energy radiating off the other man. Coming to a quick decision, he pulled himself out of his bunk and went over to the lockers. He pulled out his boxing gloves, and then took a chance, pulling Lee's from his locker too.

Lee, who still hadn't lifted his eyes, was startled when his gloves were dropped into his lap. He glared up at the large man standing over him. "What-?"

"Want to go hit the bag?" was all Helo said, a little smile on his face.

Lee was struck by the suddenly familiar words. When they had been on _Triton_, it had been an almost daily ritual. After a CAP and a meal, someone would say "Want to go hit the bag?" and then a few of the younger pilots- Lee and Helo included- would head to the gym. He and Karl had been the biggest boxing enthusiasts, so despite their differences in height and weight they often ended up sparring together, staying in the gym longer than the others. It had become a good release for them; the more stressful the day was, the longer they spent in the ring until whoever was upset had gotten it all out.

And here they were, years later, and Helo was offering his help the best way he could. Lee sighed, deflating a little. "Best idea I've heard all day," he said, throat still slightly hoarse from screaming at his father. Helo just nodded and started out, Lee following.

The gym was mercifully empty at this time. They immediately went to the bag, Helo holding it steady while Lee punched. And whatever had Apollo so worked up must have been bad, because Helo could feel the hits through the bag and his gloves. Glad to have started with that and not all-out sparring, Helo decided to broach the possibly painful subject.

"So what happened?" he asked after a few minutes. Lee grunted again, rolling his right shoulder when it got sore and then switched punching hands. He was silent for a few more moments, getting in a few more hits, when his finally spoke.

"Disagreement with the Commander," he said between punches.

Helo nodded sympathetically. "As your CO or as your father?" he ventured.

Lee paused to catch his breath, now rolling his left shoulder. "Honestly?" he panted. "I don't know if there's a difference anymore." He took a step back and held the bag, nodding for Helo to begin his round.

Helo made a few hits as he tried to think of a good response. It was a testament to how trying this week had been for him if Lee was saying something so openly. When they used to do this on _Triton_, he would just hit until his hands bled and cramped, never saying a word.

Finally Helo said, "You two seemed alright on Kobol…" Truth be told, he had never seen the Commander so emotional as he was when he had reunited with his son on that planet. And Lee- Lee who at times seemed to think _smiling_ was too much of a public display of affection- had hugged his father with a fierceness and relief that Helo had never seen in him before.

Lee's response was quiet. "Yeah, we did." Helo raised an eyebrow, and Lee shrugged. "I can't help wondering if it was just the circumstances then. Now that we're back here, things aren't like they were before."

"They can't be," Helo pointed out.

"I know," Lee was quick to reply. "They shouldn't be. We both… we both made choices, did things that changed… a lot of things." He scrunched up his face for a second, knowing that that didn't make any sense. But Helo didn't say anything, just continued his punches.

Lee sighed again as Helo finished and they went by unspoken agreement over to the mats, taking off their gloves and getting out practice pads. It was the same routine they had used on the old battlestar. 'Just like the good old days,' Helo thought.

"You two haven't talked about the, uh, mutiny?" he guessed as they circled each other lazily.

Lee shook his head. "He wants me to show that I'm sorry for doing what I did to him," he threw a few hits at the pads. "For choosing the President over him."

"Did you?" Helo asked incredulously. Lee wasn't the type to let private matters affect his duty. Affect his personal life? That was a whole other question.

"Of course not!" Lee ducked Helo's swing. "It wasn't about him, or me. I did what was right, what was needed. I can't apologize for that."

"Maybe he knows that," Helo suggested, skipping back to avoid one of Lee's jabs. "It's not normal for families to be in one command. Maybe it's just hard for him to find that distinction, and he thinks you can't find it either." He was slightly proud of himself for being able to say 'distinction' while moving around like this. He threw out another combination for Lee to block.

Lee sighed a little. "He'd be right." They sparred for a while longer before calling a halt as Helo had to go on a Raptor run. He glanced over at Apollo as they undid their taped hands. Lee no longer looked furious, but he was still too somber.

"What did he say to you tonight?" he asked hesitantly.

Lee had his back to him while he answered. "He suggested one of my pilots may have trashed my bunk."

"What? Why?" Helo hadn't really thought of that option, unless it was Kara. Though that wasn't really her style.

Lee was still turned away. "Payback, retribution, whatever. According to Commander Adama, because I pissed everybody off by abandoning them."

"What?" Helo thought for a second Lee was joking, but it was very obvious in the silence that followed that Lee was telling the truth. He moved over to stand next to him. "None of the pilots feel that way."

"Yeah," Lee answered absentmindedly

"Lee…" Helo used his real name without thinking.

Lee shook his head. "No, I know. If they were pissed, they'd be a lot more blatant about it than trashing my bunk," he laughed without any humor in his voice. "Believe me." He tossed a towel over to Helo and got one for himself as Helo got water for the both of them. They stood side by side for a second, breathing hard, taking sips of water. Suddenly Lee spoke again. "I just can't help wondering which is worse: my commanding officer thinking I can't do my job, or my father." _Or finding out I can't have both._ He shrugged, threw away his water cup and headed out of the gym.

"Think you'll be able to sleep now?" Helo asked, following him out to the corridor.

Lee shook his head. "My brain's too wired. I'm going to work on some schedules and acquisitions in the ready room for a bit."

"You sure? You just got out of sick bay, man." Helo was worried this would send Lee right back into a downward spiral.

But Lee actually smiled. It was tentative, pained, but it was there. "And since then I've flown a CAP, fought off some Raiders, and had a fight with my dad. I'd say I'm pretty much back to normal."

Helo had to chuckle at that. "Alright. Take it easy Apollo." He turned in the opposite direction, heading for the flight deck.

"Thanks Karl," he heard behind him. He turned back around and the two men nodded to each other before continuing on to their respective destinations. Just like the good old days indeed.

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"Commander," Laura greeted Bill warmly as he entered the war room. Billy, Gaeta, Tigh, and Captain Franks were also there.

"Madame President," he returned, nodding to the others. Unlike his relationship with Lee, this one was probably stronger than before. He and Roslin had come to an understanding with each other and now worked fairly smoothly together. If only it was that easy with his damn son.

He brought his attention back to Laura as she began speaking. "I wanted us to meet because we've found some new information about the attack on _Niobe._"

Captain Franks stepped forward. "We were searching an abandoned cargo hold and found this." She dropped packets and papers on the conference table. "It looks like some of our people were meeting there to pray or worship something. We found materials in there similar to the ones used to make the bomb as well."

Adama nodded, picking up one of the pieces of paper. It had a long prayer written on it, a paean if he remembered correctly. "And?"

"Sir," Gaeta picked up the explanation. "These prayers and books are connected to an extremist religious group that's been on the Colonies for years."

"A cult?" Adama guessed.

Gaeta nodded. "There are different factions, or sects, and each one worships a specific Lord of Kobol and believes in finding the Incarnate."

"The Incarnate?" Tigh asked, confused.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Lee stood staring at the white board roster, fingers drumming absently against his leg. He had gone back to the bunk to take a quick shower and cool off, and now dressed in his flight tanks and a pair of sweatpants, barefoot and a clean towel draped around his neck, he felt more refreshed than he had felt in… weeks, at least. Of course, the newest scheduling work was giving him a headache, but at least it was something he could tolerate.

A noise behind him startled him out of his thoughts. "Captain?" a tentative voice called out. Lee turned to see Crow making his way from the back of the room toward him.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, Crow? Or in sick bay?" He hated to admit it, but he couldn't remember if the nugget had actually been admitted by the medical staff or not.

"I was cleared by the medics," the kid said shyly. "I, uh, I just wanted to thank you. For what you did today."

Lee hurriedly waved it away. "It's my job, Ensign. You don't thank me for that."

Crow shook his head. "I don't know, sir. If Starbuck had been with me when I froze up like that, I think she would have let the Raiders kill me."

Lee grinned. "No, she would have saved you so she could kick your ass herself later," he joked. When Crow smiled weakly, he continued, "Look, your first couple times out there, it's a battle **not**to freeze up or panic. You're still here, so you must be doing something right."

"Yeah?" Crow said hopefully.

"Yeah," he replied. "It'll get better." The doubtful look Crow sent his way made Lee's grin widen. He continued, "Okay, maybe not in the way you think. It doesn't get better, nothing about this is easy. But it gets more manageable." He leaned back against the whiteboard, trying to put the young guy at ease. "It's just another thing you learn along the way. You just find other ways to cope."

Crow nodded, trying to let that sink in. Then he cocked his head to the side. "How do you cope?"

Lee opened his mouth to answer, but then had to shut it. How did he cope? Well, he didn't, did he? That was one of his problems. _Unless you count fighting with Kara and your father as coping_, he told himself. He had to tell Crow something, so he smiled sardonically. "Paperwork." The nugget snorted. "I mean it. Can't get enough it."

Crow laughed for just a second, looking like weight had been pulled off of his shoulders. He took a deep breath, nodded. "Thanks Apollo."

"Anytime," he nodded back as Crow headed out. The feeling of finally doing something right, of accomplishment, filled Lee. And so of course he was distracted and didn't realize he was no longer alone until someone grabbed him from behind.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Each sect believes their god is reborn in human form," Gaeta explained. "It's the job of their leader, called the Father, to find the reincarnated person and," he picked up the paper in front of him and quoted from it, "-'bring them to their truest state.'"

"What the hell does that mean?" Tigh snapped.

It was Laura who answered. "From what we've been able to find, when the cult gets their hands on the person they think is an incarnate, they put him or her through a series of tests, mental and physical, to see if the god will cast favors onto them."

"Tests?" Adama asked, wanting clarification.

She looked to Billy, who pulled out some notes and read from them. "There have been several reports dating back as far as eighty years ago," he said. "A person is kidnapped, missing for a few days, then the body is found beaten, and either stabbed or burned to death."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Whoever grabbed him used their forward momentum to slam Lee against the wall, head first. His vision darkened for just a second, but when the person pulled him and tried to subdue his arms behind him, he fought on instinct. He threw his head backwards and heard the satisfying crack of a broken nose. Grabbing the arm that had grabbed him, he pulled, flipping the person over his hip and onto the floor. And that's when he froze. It was the medic no one believed existed.

Lee's momentary shock at this was his downfall. It allowed another person to get past his guard; and suddenly he was tackled to the side. He landed hard, felt something give in his knee a little, but ignored it. When the second attacker came at him again he lashed out, sweeping the brawny man's legs out from under him. He scrambled away, bare feet slipping on the metal floor.

But Broken-Nose-Fake-Medic got to him first, and Lee was thrown backwards, hitting the top of his makeshift desk and crashing to the floor behind it, sending everything that had been on the table flying. And then both men were there. He struggled, but the weight of two fully grown men pressing down on him was too much. Soon they had his arms behind him, pinning him to the floor, with a knee pressed down hard on his back. The towel that had previously been around his shoulders was forced into his mouth, effectively gagging him.

Lee still fought against them, and finally managed to get an elbow free, ramming it into the chest of one of the men. There was a pained gasp- the first sound either of them had made- and then Lee's body was lifted slightly off the floor and slammed back down, purposefully making sure his head met the cold, hard metal with force. Momentarily dazed, he felt the two pull him up to a mostly standing position, holding him across the chest from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Stabbed or burned to death?" Franks looked sickened, perhaps thinking of all the burn victims on her ship.

Billy nodded. "It has to do with whether or not the cult is convinced the person actually is the incarnate. If…" he swallowed. "If the person fails the tests they slit his or her throat and move on to the next candidate."

"Why are the others burned?" Adama's voice was grim.

Laura took off her glasses. "By burning the incarnate's body, they think it will release the god from its," she looked to quote off her notes, "-'mortal prison.'"

"Okay," Adama took a moment to process all of this. This is certainly _not _a conversation he ever thought he would be having. He turned back to Gaeta, sensing he would have the answer to his next question. "Do we know which sect we're dealing with here?"

x x x x x x x x x x x x

The sound of the hatch to the ready room opening and quick-moving feet led strength to Lee's struggles. He didn't care who it was; hell, he'd take frakkin' Baltar right now. He tried yelling out, but the cloth in his mouth dampened his voice too much. When Crow appeared, he was torn between relief and fear for the young man, willing him to make a run for help. But Crow continued hurrying towards them, and Lee was afraid he'd actually try to take on these two guys, almost the exact opposite of what had happened on the CAP earlier today.

But then Crow stopped, standing right in front of Lee. Lee stilled as well, confused, until he saw the rag and bottle in Crow's hand. His eyes widened in shock and accusation as Crow doused the rag in chloroform and then held it up to Lee's face. "Sorry Captain," the nugget whispered, "but the Father commands this."

He tried to shake his head free, but a hand gripped his jaw tightly, forcing him to keep still. Lee held his breath for as long as possible, until a fist slamming into his solar plexus caused him to gasp reflexively. He simultaneously leaned forward, unintentionally pressing into the cloth on his face, and inhaled the chemicals on it. Soon spots covered his vision and the world grew blurry around him. The sickeningly sweet smell of the chloroform was nauseating and left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. His movements slowed against his will. Dizziness made him slump forward even more, leaning heavily against whoever was holding him up, and he had no choice but to stop fighting.

A voice in his ear whispered, "That's it, Apollo. You're coming with us. We'll bring you home and set you free."

Lee wanted to be concerned by that, he really did, but he was having too much trouble focusing on anything. It felt like his muscles were relaxing one by one, dragging him down. And then the darkness closed in on his vision, and his body finally went limp into the arms holding him.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"We don't have it confirmed yet sir," Gaeta began, shuffling through his own notes, "But judging by the symbol Captain Adama found at the crime scene and a few of the prayers we were able to translate, the cult appears to worship, ironically enough, the god Apollo."

Adama didn't know whether to laugh or groan at that. He settled for a very quiet sigh. Judging by the look on Roslin's face, she was having the same reaction.

"The question now is why did they attack the _Niobe_?" she murmured, turning to him. "Was their incarnate someone on board? Were they killing him or maybe looking for him?"

"Could be," Adama mused, unaware of the looks Billy and Captain Franks were giving them.

"Madame President-" Billy was shaking his head, looking at both of them like they were idiots.

On the same wavelength, Captain Franks held up a hand. "Excuse me? Am I the only one here who thinks it a strange coincidence that you already have an Apollo on board?"

Bill and Laura both started at that, turning as one to stare at Franks, then at each other.

Franks continued, "That is Captain Adama's call sign, isn't it? And he was on my ship right after the bombing; the cult may have still been there."

The pit in Adama's stomach grew heavier. Lee's paranoia, the imaginary medic, and his things searched through… Was it…? His head dipped down, eyes fixed on the table in front of him, just as Laura put a shaking hand to her mouth. Tigh snapped to attention, barking to Gaeta, "Get him here now."

"Yes sir," Gaeta gave a short, quick nod with wide eyes. He hurried to the phone, sending out a ship-wide call. "Captain Adama to the war room. Repeat, Captain Adama to the war room immediately."

…But it was too late. A Raptor carrying two fake medics and their unconscious patient was already speeding away from the _Galactica_. Apollo was gone.

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TO BE CONTINUED…

Sorry, one final plea to American readers I don't care who you vote for (okay, I do care, I'm 23 years old, this is my future you're helping to plan!), I just really hope you vote. It is so unbelievably important, especially with the state of our country and the state of our world. I don't want to soapbox, but my God these are the times our history is made of and not to sound overly-dramatic, but this election could really be the beginning of something good. Please exercise your right to help our country be better! And I'm not from California, but a very important vote is going on there as well- if you're a Californian, please think about voting NO on Prop 8. With liberty and justice for _all_!


	7. Chapter 7

The Light of Apollo

By Carolina Blue

A/N: Takes place in S2, between "Home Part 2" and "Final Cut."

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of the show "Battlestar Galactica," all rights reserved, etc. etc.

I know! I'm sorry! I suck! I've been trying to write this as best as possible before posting it, and it's _still _later than I wanted. So thanks to all reviewers/alert-ers! Keep them coming, they help me write! (Trust me, this would have been even LATER without you)

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Kara burst into the Pilots' Quarters, flight suit still on from her CAP and eyes blazing. "How the frak did they get off the ship?" she yelled at everyone and no one. She had just heard the news from a surprisingly gentle Tyrol, and right now she needed some intel. Or something to hit.

The mood in the bunk room was somber and still. "They were disguised as medics," Hot Dog finally broke the silence.

Kara refrained from pointing out that he wasn't supposed to be in Senior Officer's Quarters, instead sitting down on her bunk and pulling down the top half of her flight suit. "What?" she snapped.

It was Helo who answered, the best and only bet to calm her down. "We heard from Dee that there were two medics and a patient who left in a Raptor about the time Apollo disappeared. The patient was strapped to a gurney and, uh," he cleared his throat, "-unconscious. His face was obscured. No one on the flight deck saw anything suspicious…" he trailed off, flexing his hands.

"Was it Cylons?" Kara didn't want to ask, but she had to know.

"We don't know," Racetrack answered from her bed where she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

"And if someone knows, they're not telling us," Kat's voice, usually so fiery and combative, sounded small.

Kara slammed a fist into her pillow, but it didn't hurt enough. Next she punched the bulkhead next to her rack, but that wasn't enough either. The sympathetic looks from some of the other pilots- those not purposefully avoiding looking at her- didn't help. Helo looked like he wanted to get up and go to her, or open his mouth to say something, but she warned him off with a glare. She leaned back in her bunk, back against the bulkhead, and stared straight ahead. And then it hurt too much to breathe, because the only thing she could see now was Lee's empty bunk.

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Somewhere else in the fleet, in a small nondescript room in a small nondescript ship, a bucket of water was dumped onto Lee Adama's head. He awoke with a start, coughing and choking. Instinctively, he reached up to wipe at his face, but he couldn't move his hands. His eyes flew open as the memories of being attacked (abducted?) came back to him.

He was in some sort of makeshift cell, empty except for a simple chair at one end and a small window at the other. Lee himself was sitting on a chair against the far wall. The reason he couldn't move his arms became abundantly clear- they were shackled and chained behind his back through the bars of the chair. His ankles were also shackled together. 'Not good,' he thought. He coughed again, but ran his tongue along his lips, trying to pull more of that water into his mouth and wash out the bitter aftertaste of chloroform. He took stock of himself, feeling the bruises littering his body, the cut at his eyebrow. And whatever had happened to his knee, it was throbbing dully now.

Finally, finally, he looked up at the other two people in the room with him. One was his Broken-Nose-Fake-Medic friend, whom Lee was proud to see actually did have a broken nose if the colors and swelling on his face were any indication. Lee couldn't help but smirk up at him. "You should get that checked out," he suggested, eyed widening innocently. "Know any good medics?"

The sharp backhand across his face drew his attention to the other man. He was tall and extremely broad-shouldered, like he could give Helo a run for his money. He had shoulder length dark hair, streaked with gray, and he looked to be about the same age as Tom Zarek, and twice as crazy. And that was saying something.

"Hello Apollo," the man said.

Lee winced, not liking that they knew who he was. "Who are you?" he asked, face becoming a mask again and voice adopting the commanding tone of a CAG. He was not giving these guys any more weaknesses from him than they already had seen.

"I am called the Father," the man answered, in such a benevolent, pompous tone that Lee couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Oh great," he muttered. Another hit to his face, and Lee had to turn to spit blood out of his mouth. He glared up at the man.

"You will show me respect, mortal, for the time your body has left in this world," the man commanded calmly.

Too calmly. His words were chilling enough, but the lack of sanity with which they were spoken scared Lee. 'Mortal?' What the frak… "You're Cylons?" he asked warily.

They looked shocked for a second, confused. Then the Father shook his head. "We are humans, the children, the chosen of the Lords of Kobol."

Lee felt a moment of relief for that, before getting confused again. Not wanting to show it, he smiled again. "So you're the child and the father, huh? That's got to be confusing." Another hit, this time a punch that landed on the muscles between his neck and his shoulder, rocking him back against the wall. He took a few controlled deep breaths, pushing away the pain of what felt like pins and needles poking into his skin, then frowned back up at the men. "Why am I here?"

The man continued to stare at him. _Study_ him. Lee felt a little like a specimen in a lab. "You are Apollo, are you not?"

Lee had to force himself not to roll his eyes again. If his flight instructor weren't already dead, he would love to kill him now. Stupid frakking nickname. "It's my call sign. Nothing more."

The man smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. He pulled the other chair over to sit in front of Lee. His posture was strange, neither casual nor stiff. It was almost… regal, Lee decided. This guy may have been crazy, but he was also in control. "Nothing more?" he parroted back with a knowing smile. What he knew, Lee had no idea.

He watched him as the man rearranged his robes around himself more comfortably, and something caught his eye. The man was wearing a medallion around his neck, and the symbol on the necklace was unfortunately familiar to Lee. It was the same symbol that he had found on the bomb on _Niobe._

He sat up straighter, eyes wide despite the blood that threatened to trickle down into them from the cut at his brow. "It was you? You attacked _Niobe_?" The frakker smiled proudly. Lee wanted to strangle him. "You killed innocent people for… for what?"

"We were looking for you," was his simple answer.

Lee shook his head. "What?"

The man leaned forward. "We had to find Apollo, by any means necessary. What are the lives of thirty-two people compared to that?"

There was so much wrong with that, it made Lee's head swim. Thirty-two people were killed because of him? He thought of that little kid in the sick bay. Zachary had to have died by now. "Thirty-three," he corrected softly. Gods, he _hated_ that number.

"We had to find Apollo," the man insisted. He glanced up at Broken-Nose-Fake-Medic, who Lee had forgotten was still in the room. The silent man moved to the side, out of Lee's line of sight, but Lee was too focused on Crazy Guy to care.

"I don't understand," he said softly. In his head, the words chanted over and over again. 'Thirty-three dead because of you. Thirty-three dead because of you.'

Crazy Guy was sitting back again, still smiling. He took a deep breath as though preparing for a lecture. "As it is written in the ancient texts, the god Apollo brought a plague to the woman Niobe for disparaging his mother."

Gods help him, it was a lecture. "Yeah, he killed Niobe's sons and Artemis killed her daughters." Lee may not be religious, but he- like every other student ever- knew the tales of ancient history. "What does this have to do with me?"

"My children and I brought a plague to the people of _Niobe_, to call out to Apollo. So he would recognize his work and come forth." His smile faded, but the confident look in his eyes did not. "And you appeared."

"Wait, what?" Lee unconsciously tried to back up, but Broken-Nose-Fake-Medic had a hand on the back of his chair. "That makes no- that's just a story. And I'm not actually _Apollo_."

"But you are," Crazy Guy insisted. "Phoebus is inside of you, and it is our duty- our honor- to bring him forth."

It took everything in Lee not to roll his eyes yet again. "Gods no," he muttered to himself. Looking back up at his captor, "My name is Lee Adama, Captain, serial number 318742. I am the CAG of the Battlestar _Galactica_, my-" This hit came out of nowhere. He didn't think Crazy Guy could move that fast, and by the time Lee's vision cleared and his ears stopped ringing, Crazy Guy was sitting back in his chair, smiling calmly, like nothing had happened. Lee shook his head lightly, wincing as more blood dripped into his right eye.

Crazy Guy regarded him calmly. "My followers and I have been searching for you for many years. You are the Apollo Incarnate, the host to the Lord of Kobol."

"Please stop," Lee murmured. He was ignored.

"God of archery, battle and victory. God of truth and prophecy, God of medicine and healing." He leaned in closer. "You are the patron defender of herds and flocks. Of colonists."

"I'm _really_ not," Lee interjected. Part of him thought this had to be some sort of joke. Another hit. This time the fist slammed hard into his chest. He doubled over, inadvertently pulling on the cuffs around his wrists and causing them to bite into his skin. He spent a few seconds catching his breath before glaring back up at the man. "What do you want with me? What do you think I'm going to do?"

The man's smile widened, and Lee thought about upgrading his nickname to Super-Crazy Guy. Especially when he spoke again: "You don't have to do anything; we'll take care of it." He looked over Lee's shoulder, and Lee was reminded that Broken-Nose-Fake-Medic was still there. Before he had a chance to turn his head, a sharp sting hit the side of his neck. Almost instantly, he was hit with an intense wave of dizziness. He tried to look at Crazy Guy, but there was nothing to focus on. Colors were running together, lines that should be straight were waving around him. Crazy Guy's voice was muddled, echoing through his ears as though they were very far away from each other.

"F-frak…" he stuttered. He waited for the darkness to close in, trying to count the seconds until it did. But he remained awake, and he had a hard time judging just how long a second was supposed to be. "What…?" His body felt heavy and lethargic, but his mind seemed to be floating. It was a disconcerting feeling pushing at him, like he was supposed to relax but just couldn't make it all the way there.

"Just a precaution," Crazy Guy's voice was swimming in his head. "It's for your own good." In Lee's experience, things that were supposed to be for your own good never were. But Crazy Guy continued, "It's the first step in breaking you free." The voice got closer, a hand was placed on his slumping shoulder, feeling like it weighed a ton. "Just let it in, don't fight it."

Lee let out a huffed breath that was supposed to be a laugh. Don't fight it? "S-story of my life," he mumbled.

"Not anymore," was the unexpected answer. He felt the men push him back in his chair until he was more or less sitting straight up. Then there were two shadowy shapes in front of him. "Why are you named Apollo?"

His body may be rebelling against him, but military instinct kicked in. He was being interrogated. "Lee Adama, Captain, serial number 3817-" Something heavy connected with his knee, the one that had already been hurting. It took a few seconds for the pain to register, but the fire that surged through him moments later brought a groan to his lips. He would have curled inward again but two pairs of hands pushed him back. The fire in his knee took too long to go away, leaving him gasping for air. He wanted to twist out of the men's grasps, but his limbs were too heavy to move.

"Apollo," the voice caught his attention again. "You have to let go of what you think is real, what your mortal body has known in its years. That's not truth. Give in to this, and it will help you see what _is _truth."

No, no, no. Lee is not someone who gives in easily. Whatever this thing coursing through his blood was, he didn't like it. He shook his head. "Lee Adama, Capt-" This time something definitely snapped in his knee, he just wasn't sure what. He let out a scream as the pain hit him some moments later, then quickly tried to swallow it back. Gods damn it, he wished this drug had just knocked him out. Where was the chloroform when you needed it?

That voice was talking again, circling him. Lee tried to follow the shadow with his eyes, but it just left him more dizzy. He swallowed again, trying to will his world back into focus, but nothing worked. Everything was off, like he was watching some video where the sound was a couple seconds delayed. He was floating, yet everything felt weighted down. But he would not give in to the sensation.

Still talking. "This is just your mortal prison, you have to accept that. It's a human body, weak and worthless." Lee winced at the word 'worthless.' He had had enough of that word in his life.

Father noticed the flinch, filed that away for later thought. He turned back to the acolyte. "How much of a dose did you give him?"

The acolyte shrugged one shoulder. "Should last another hour or so," he answered, his voice sounding congested from the broken nose.

Father nodded, turning back to Apollo, who was shaking his head again. "If it has to come to this, Apollo, then I'm sorry. But maybe," he gestured to the acolyte, who took up a position next to the chair, bracing Apollo back against it so he couldn't move. "Maybe we'll have to show you how weak and worthless a mortal body is."

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The punching bag had always been Kara's trusty friend. And today they were bonding more than usual. With all that Kara had just learned, if she didn't hit something right now, she just might tear the entire fleet to shreds with her bare hands. Never mind that that was impossible, she would do it. She was that pissed.

Helo sat on the leg press bench nearby. He wasn't really working out, just idly pushing the bar back and forth, pretending he wasn't watching her. He hadn't really left Kara's side since the Commander had debriefed the pilots an hour earlier. She wasn't sure if it was for her sake or his.

"I can't believe, after everything, human beings did this," his voice was soft and not nearly as casual as he had wanted it to be.

Kara's answering grunt echoed through the otherwise empty gym. The punching bag nearly swung off its hinges. Her hands were beginning to cramp, but she didn't care. She welcomed it. Pain kept her focused on the job at hand. Pain kept her from dwelling on what must be happening to Lee right now. A cult. The word alone was enough to freak her out. But a cult of religious loonies who were going to torture Lee to death because of his call sign? 'If that frakkin' flight instructor wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself right now,' she thought.

Helo continued. "These are people we're supposed to be fighting to protect. How…?" he shook his head, cleared his throat, fidgeted a little on the bench. Three different signs that he was hoping Kara would say something.

She threw another punch, letting out a quick, feral scream as she swung. The bag swung wildly again, the chains and hinges creaking nearly as loudly as her yell. Kara turned away from it, going to her locker. She kept her back to Helo, not saying a word. The only sound in the gym was that of the bag swinging back and forth, slowly righting itself. When it stopped, the gym looked completely normal again, and Kara wanted to hit the bag one more time, literally knock the stuffing out of it, just so that something would look wrong. She felt so thrown off and frustrated; it wasn't fair that that the world looked the same as it always did.

Helo was obviously staring at her back. "Kara…"

"Damn it Karl, what do you want from me?" she half yelled, half growled. She spun around, ready to fix him with the hardest glare she could muster. An 'Adama' glare, if possible. But there was Helo, sitting there, staring up at her with a sad, understanding look in his eyes. Not pity, not worry, just understanding. It almost made her feel like crying, but Kara hadn't cried yet, and she'd be damned if she started now. "What do you want, Helo?" she asked again, quieter.

He held her gaze. "I want you know, I'm here if you want anything from me." And that was all he said.

"I want you to find Lee while I go kill those frakkers who took him," she grumbled, leaning back against the row of lockers.

Helo snorted. "Yeah, you and every other person on this ship." He dared to stand up and move closer, handing her a towel. She accepted it as the peace offering it was, her mind dwelling on what he had just said. It was true, there was a dark cloud hanging over the entire battlestar right now. Despite everything that had happened and everything Lee might think about himself, he was a popular person on _Galactica_. In all the time he spent on the flight deck, with the pilots, in CIC, hell- even in the sick bay, he had grown to be very well-liked among the crew. Never mind the pilots. He was a damn fine CAG, especially considering the circumstances. Had Kara ever told him that?

No. She had called him the worst CAG in the history of CAGs. It had been said in joking, but sometimes she worried that Lee took all of that stuff to heart. That he really did think no one besides her had his back on this ship. For some reason, that made her sadder than the situation at hand. It was partly her fault; she always teased him about those things. Maybe he really did think he was the worst CAG in the history of CAGs. Maybe he thought she didn't love him like he said he loved her. _You're dreaming, Kara. Dreamer! _Frak! He couldn't die. He wasn't allowed to die, not before her. That was the deal she had made with herself after he had reappeared in her life- twice- during those first attacks. Lee Adama could not die while Kara Thrace was still alive. She turned to Helo, who was stuck in his own thoughts, leaning against the lockers beside her with a troubled expression on his face as he looked over at the sparring ring.

"We have to get him back," she said quietly, firmly.

Helo tore his eyes away from the mats to look over at her. He nodded slowly, reassuringly. "Then we will," he replied. He moved closer to her, until their shoulders were almost but not quite touching. They both looked out at the empty, quiet gym that looked like it always frakking did. "We will."

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TO BE CONTINUED…


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